


Soul To Keep

by skibasyndrome



Category: Alkaline Trio (Band), Bandom, Blink-182, skippus - Fandom
Genre: AU, Blink-182 - Freeform, M/M, ghost au, skippus, soul to keep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skibasyndrome/pseuds/skibasyndrome
Summary: When Mark moves into a new apartment strange things happen and he feels like he might be losing his mind.If he didn't totally not believe in ghosts he would say his place was haunted.





	1. Chapter 1

Mark slowly unlocks the door, pushing it open once he’s done. He steps inside of the dark apartment and looks around.

Well, this place isn’t the biggest, but it’s not like he needs a lot of space.

He drops his backpack in the hallways and walks further into the flat. There’s a small kitchen, a bathroom and a mix of a living room and bedroom.

He actually expected worse when Dave told him about the place. You never know what Dave defines as “nice”. But this is good.

It will definitely be enough for him for a while.

A narrow doorway leads outside onto a small balcony and Mark steps outside. Looking down, he sees the Monday afternoon traffic pass in front of the fairly large building.

He takes a deep breath.

It’s getting darker outside, even summer days don’t last forever.

Additionally, a cloud is covering most of the sun, leaving everything in a gray tone. Mark doesn’t like it. He’d prefer to see the sun right now.

Right in that moment, he feels his phone move inside of his pocket.

Fishing it out and checking the display he smiles. It’s Dave, waiting downstairs.

Finally that fucker’s here, too.

Mark makes sure he has his keys with him when he leaves the flat, he wouldn’t want to lock himself out right on the first day.

 

 

 

Mark doesn’t remember packing that many boxes. But maybe he doesn’t remember them because he didn’t have to carry them up four floors earlier.

Of course the elevator doesn’t work. Just like nothing else in Mark’s life ever works.

He’s really grateful that Dave's helping him, because he surely would die all alone with all the boxes.

Once the last box is finally in Mark’s apartment Mark somewhat shows Dave around, even with the little space he has.

They end up on the balcony, staring down onto the cars. It’s weirdly cold for the middle of summer.

The balcony is just big enough for both of them with a fair amount of space between them.

Mark’s leaning against the railing and fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

As always, he offers one to Dave, but Dave just shakes his head.

Shrugging nonchalantly Mark digs around for the lighter and lights the cigarette in his mouth.

Gosh, he needed this.

Dave breaks the comfortable silence between them with a sigh.

“You’re gonna die”

Mark just shrugs again.

“I could live healthily but get run over by a bus tomorrow, it doesn’t matter”

He doesn’t have to look at him to know Dave’s shaking his head. They’ve had this sort of conversation too often.

Instead of arguing back Dave's just silent now, watching Mark. He seems to be thinking about something.

“You know, you should get among people”

Mark takes another drag, averting his eyes to watch the lights moving on the street below. He really would like some company sometime. It’s been quite a while since he’s done anything with anyone, Dave being the exception.

“Maybe meet someone new”

He shrugs once again.

“Or maybe you just need to get laid,” Dave's grinning at him and Mark can see it from the corner of his eye.

“You saying you volunteer?” he shoots back and Dave laughs quietly.

It’s not like they haven’t fucked before. But well, they don’t work too well with each other like that.

“I know this place, it’s not that far from here, we could just go and have a drink, see what else happens”

Mark can imagine where Dave wants to go. In over ten years of friendship he’s gotten to know him quite well. He’s never really liked gay clubs, but the more he thinks about, the better the idea seems.

He knows if he wouldn’t go he would just sit around and watch TV until he falls asleep, so why the fuck not. It’s not like he’s got anything to lose.

“I was gonna meet up with a friend there, I’m sure you’d find him nice, too,” Dave adds and Mark sighs inwardly. Of course he’s going to be third-wheeling all night long, he shouldn’t have expected anything better.

Nonetheless, Mark agrees with a slow nod. He can’t stay hiding away from the world forever, that can’t be healthy.

 

 

 

Stumbling against the wall next to his door, another body pinned beneath him, Mark starts fumbling around for his keys.

He feels lips latch to his neck and nibble on his skin and he groans lowly.

Fucking keys.

“Hold on,” he pushes the guy off, not all too gently, but he blames it on the alcohol in his system.

Finally he finds the keys and turns to unlock the door.

One second passes and the guy is back against Mark’s body, his hands running over his arms.

Mark feels kind of bad that he forgot his name. It’s something like Jake, Jack... something starting with a J. He’ll just have to avoid it.

Once the door is finally open they stumble inside, jackets immediately falling to the ground.

They guy’s back at Mark’s lips as soon as the door falls into its lock again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Mark’s expecting them to trip over his backpack that he just shed in the hallway earlier.

He pulls away for a moment to apologize for his messy new place but the guy doesn’t seem to mind, practically jumping Mark again.

His hands grasp Mark’s shirt and start tugging on it, so he just gives up on talking.

Somehow they manage to make their way through the hallway and into the bedroom.

They fall onto the bed, Mark on top of the other guy and Mark decides to just go with the way his body is responding.

 

 

 

When Mark wakes up in the morning he’s got a pounding headache. As soon as he opens his eyes to the light coming in through the glass of the balcony door he tries to bury himself back in his sheets.

He barely remembers if the guy left right after or if he snuck out, but he’s glad he’s gone.

Not because it was bad, just because he still can’t seem to recall his name.

Why do nights like this always end up making him feel like shit? He seriously wishes he had Dave's drinking capacity, that guy can down a shitton and still get up early in the morning, all smiling and cheerful as fuck.

A sudden shiver runs through Mark and he pulls the sheets tighter around his body.

Why the fuck is it suddenly so damn cold?

God, he needs to get dressed.

Groaning painfully Mark tries to get up, his head is spinning the first moment he’s on his feet again.

“Fuck,” he mumbles quietly, but it sounds like thunder to his own ears.

He slowly walks around the bed, picking up the clothes he shed yesterday, simply because he hasn’t unpacked anything else yet.

His headache is killing him. He’s gotta have some Advil lying around somewhere.

Waddling through the door into the hallway he’s rubbing his temples.

Backpack, right, backpack, it’s gotta be there.

He shivers again. Why the hell would it be cold like this?

When he looks around for the big black backpack he can’t find it anywhere in the hallway.

What the fuck.

Is he going crazy?

He _knows_ he left it there yesterday.

The pounding in his head makes him wince. This is ridiculous.

“What the fuck,” he’s saying it out loud when he can’t spot the backpack in the bedroom either.

Where would it be? He didn’t leave his flat with it again.

Goddammit, he needs to make the pounding stop.

Stepping into the small kitchen he turns around expecting to see it sitting in some corner, secretly laughing at him.

When it isn’t there and he, upon fucking _crouching_ down, can’t see it anywhere underneath the table either he decides to just sit on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Fuck.

It’s not even funny anymore.

Suddenly Mark remembers a spot he hasn’t checked yet.

A bit angry, not sure at whom, he gets up and stalks towards the balcony door.

And right there it is, his backpack’s leaning against the railing.

There’s no way Mark put it out there. He’s not that stupid.

He’s going to _kill_  Dave for fucking with him like that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay, where the hell did you put them?” Mark’s holding his phone between his cheek and shoulder while he’s rummaging through his still quite empty cupboards to find his cigarettes.

He doesn’t find anything, besides dust and an ancient looking box of spaghettis.

Dave, as cheery as ever, acts like he has no clue what Mark is even referring to.

“My cigarettes, you fucker”

Mark was just mildly annoyed by the hidden backpack, but this right here? This is way too much on a hung-over morning.

“I swear, didn’t touch them”

Mark just lets out a long and drawn-out sigh.

He’s almost believing him. Almost feels guilty for snapping.

But still, he knows he didn’t hide them himself. It fucking  _must have been_  Dave.

He’s pretty sure the guy last night didn’t take them, either. Or well, maybe, he could have. But that wouldn’t make any sense either. He didn’t seem the type to steal a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

And why would he hide his backpack, too?

Mark’s head is hurting, and not only from the pounding headache.

Things are just not making any sense right now and honestly? Trying to play detective is too much brain-work.

Dave clears his throat. Mark nearly forgot he’s still there.

“Sorry, man,” he starts, mildly embarrassed. Maybe he just really drank too much and put them god knows where.

“I’m just... a little confused this morning”

“It’s alright,” Dave sighs again. “I’m coming over with some breakfast, that alright?”

Mark nods before he realises Dave can’t see him.

He lifts a hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

“That would be awesome”

He hangs up and drops back against the kitchen counter. Goddamnit. He’s really fucked up today, more so than usually. Maybe he’s just getting too old to go out. Pretty sad.

A shiver rushes up his spine.

Oh that goddamn cold.

He slowly walks into the hallway, opening up one of the many brown boxes to find a sweater.

You really shouldn’t have to be wearing sweaters in summer. And certainly not when you’ve got other things to worry about.

 

 

 

It doesn’t take too long for Dave to arrive. Mark is startled out of the peaceful and  _oh-so-soothing_  silence in his apartment by a knock on the door.

When Mark opens the door he’s handed a cup of coffee and he decides, okay, yeah, he still loves Dave. He’ll even forgive him any hiding he might or might not have done.

And, fuck yeah, he loves a good coffee.

Just one moment later Dave hands him a new pack of cigarettes.

“I hate that I’m giving you these,” he says.

Mark just smiles thankfully.

“Sorry for flipping out on you and assuming shit,” he answers meekly. Dave just shakes his head.

“It’s alright” then adds, ”You look fucked. In like, all the ways.”

Mark grins weakly. Yeah, he feels pretty fucked, too. In some ways.

“So?,” Dave starts, “What exactly happened?”

He’s raising his eyebrows and Mark rolls his eyes.

“You know what happened,” he answers and Dave lifts his hand for a high-five.

“Awesome! See, you still got it!”

Mark grins, more cheekily this time.

“Of course, there never was a doubt”

Dave walks further into the hallway towards the balcony door.

Mark follows him, taking a gulp of coffee, when he suddenly has to shiver again.

 

 

 

When Dave suggested a job at the local music store Mark really thought it would be a little more exciting. Being around some kick-ass instruments and interesting people. 

But nope. He has been bored off his ass all day.

But at least he makes money for not doing shit.

Slowly, Mark unlocks the door and walks inside.

He drops his keys onto a sideboard in the hallway. On his way inside he trips over an open box that’s standing right where Mark happens to put his feet. All his clothes are lying scattered around it. Well fuck.

He could’ve sworn that particular box wasn’t there in the morning.

But then again, there’s many things he doesn’t remember putting in strange places.

He had found his half-empty box of cigarettes in his backpack earlier.

Maybe he should start putting away his things, for good. In a place where they belong.

Or he might just slip and break his fucking neck because of a stray pair of socks. That’d make for a truly pathetic gravestone. 

Maybe he deserves a pathetic gravestone though.

Sighing, he starts picking up the clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello it's been a while.  
> I really hope? That you are enjoying my introduction ramblings?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time in ?2? years I'm publishing a skippus fic, so I hope it's enjoyable.
> 
> Leave some feedback if you feel like.


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